


I Give it a Year (and a day)

by fourthlinefic (XylophoneCat)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Non-Hockey, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Witch!Sid, indeterminate time period, weird heart metaphors? idk it's magic just roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylophoneCat/pseuds/fourthlinefic
Summary: Once upon a time, in a kingdom a little closer than you might think, there was a deep dark wood. Like most woods, it wasn’t all dark all the time, and here and there were little clearings where the sunlight broke through and pooled around the roots of the trees. In one of these clearings lived a witch, though not like any witch you might have read about in nursery books.Geno's heart has been shattered into pieces, and he thinks that only Sidney has the power to fix it. Sidney figures he should at least try.





	I Give it a Year (and a day)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devisama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devisama/gifts).



> Devisama! I really hope you like this, I'm all about witches and tried to write something for you that just like, feels nice to read, you know?
> 
> Thank you to N, for betaing for me. You are my rock and I love you. Thank you also to the benevolent exchange overlords for their understanding, and their deadline extensions

Once upon a time, in a kingdom a little closer than you might think, there was a deep dark wood. Like most woods, it wasn’t all dark all the time, and here and there were little clearings where the sunlight broke through and pooled around the roots of the trees. In one of these clearings lived a witch, though not like any witch you might have read about in nursery books.

This witch was a young man with broad shoulders and strong hands, only a slightly crooked grin, and not a single wart. His cottage held no skulls, dripping candles, or child sized ovens, and any bubbling cauldron was more likely to contain rabbit stew than eye of newt. It would have surprised the townsfolk who lived at the border of the wood, who all ignorantly believed him to be the cause of anything that went wrong in the town, though none were brave enough to plunge into the shadow of the trees and do anything about it. Instead they settled for calling him a host of very unpleasant names, each one nastier than the last, and none of which I shall record here. His mother called him Sidney, so that is what we shall call him.

Our story starts on an afternoon much like any other. It was late, and the setting sun was poking its rays between the tree trunks, drenching everything in honey sweet gold. Sidney was walking home, satchel brimming with the fruits of the day’s foraging. His best find was a harvest of early blackberries, the temptation of which he had been unable to resist, and he ate them as he walked, enjoying the tart burst of each one against his tongue, the gritty crunch of the seeds between his teeth.

It had been a good day, and he was in such a good mood that not even the stranger waiting for him outside his cottage did much to dispel it. Besides, Sidney didn’t think he meant any harm - he had pulled up a long strand of feathery grass from the verge and was flicking it back and forth for Friday, Sidney’s huge ginger cat. He didn’t notice Sidney until he was only a few feet away, and even then, it was only because of Friday’s welcoming meow that he noticed at all. The speed with which he shot to his feet made Sidney smile, and he got a shy twitch of the lips in return.

“Hi there,” Sidney said.

The young man’s name was Evgeni, but his friends called him Geno. He was almost comically tall, with soft brown hair and sleepy eyes, and he came from the town at the edge of the forest (yes the very same town that so feared and despised Sidney). It turned out that he was in a bit of a pickle, as young men so frequently are.

“I need something fixing.”

Always happy to help anyone brave enough to ask for it, Sidney gestured to Geno to follow him inside, leading him through the cottage and into his workroom. Light streamed in through three tall windows along the back wall, glinting off brass and glass equipment, and painting strangely shaped shadows on the walls. At the centre of the room was a large square work table, cluttered with a whole host of strange things; Jars of brightly coloured powders, bunches of dried herbs, spools of wire, and stones with intricate patterns. Any surface that didn’t hold an oddity was covered over in papers. Some were recognisably recipes, with lists of ingredients and the methods below. Others were incomprehensible, filled with flowing script that looked upside down no matter which way Geno tilted his head.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.” Sidney said as he gathered everything into a single pile, the papers whispering to each other in their strange languages. “Trouble is, they don’t use vowels, so it’s a struggle to decipher it all. Let’s see what you’ve got there.”

Geno wanted to ask more about what sort of country would just leave out half the letters in their words, but Sidney was looking at him expectantly. “Is my heart,” he said, placing a small bag on Sidney’s work table. It tinkled softly as it settled against the roughly finished wood. Sidney picked it up with careful hands and shook out several glittering pieces of Geno’s splintered heart, long red shards that caught the light and threw it back in a thousand dazzling fragments. “I give it to the wrong person and, well. It got broken. No one in town knows how to fix, so I bring here.”

Sidney went to pick up a piece for a closer look, but jerked his hand back fast with a small surprised cry, for the shard was as cold as winter and as sharp as a wasp’s sting. A thin red cut opened up across his finger tips, shallow, but still deep enough to ooze a couple of drops of blood. He clenched his hand tight.

Geno felt a sharp prickle of discomfort at the bottom of his spine, as Sidney moved his studious gaze from his heart and over him. It felt like those hazel eyes were pulling him apart layer by layer, analysing and categorising each piece of him. But all Sidney was looking at were the dark bags under Geno’s eyes, the tired droop of his shoulders, and the way his hands refused to stay still, even for a second. His fingers twisted around each other, picked at the frayed hem of his shirt, tapped staccato beats against the table. A broken heart was the least of this man’s worries.

“We can mend your heart,” Sidney said, an idea forming slowly. “But my price is high. You must work for me for a year and a day, and you must tell no-one you are here.”

Sidney’s words filled Geno with a surge of anxiety, but he was desperate. He squared his shoulders, looked the witch square in the eye. 

“Anything.”

And so it was. Geno returned home that evening to pack, quit his job in the town bank the next morning, and informed his landlord that he would no longer be residing in his attic. Then he set out along the Eastern Road, the exact opposite direction of the old forest. When he was sure that no-one from the town would be able to see him, he cut across one of the wheat fields to where he knew there was a track leading back the way he had come. This way, he could enter the forest obscured by the pale gold heads of the wheat, and everyone who had seen him leave would think he was heading for the coast.

It was mid afternoon by the time he finally made it back to the quiet cottage. Sidney looked pleased to see him, even though Geno felt too awkward, too big stood there in the entrance of Sidney’s home, his few bags at his feet. Sidney showed him upstairs to what was to be his bedroom, a nicely sized room that felt brand new, like it had only been put together that afternoon. For all Geno could say, it had been, as the entire house had a fluid feel to it, like Sidney could put it together and pull it apart as he needed. Certainly, the inside layout didn’t seem to match the outer walls. The kitchen extend too far back, and the work room didn’t seem to exist from the outside. It was all very strange, but Sidney did all he could to make sure Geno felt settled.

“It’s not much, but it’s yours while you’re here.” he said with an open awkwardness that Geno couldn’t help but find endearing.

The months passed, and Geno found himself almost enjoying himself. There was a peace in the small clearing that he had never felt before, a peace that had always evaded him amongst the hustle and bustle of town. He still had work to do, but so much of it was outside in the gardens, or between the soaring trees of the forest that it hardly felt like work at all. It was nothing like the bank, the huge echoing rooms filled with rows of identical desks, the clacking of typewriters filling the marble chilled air, suffocating any attempts at communication. Here, out in the sun, he felt his soul start to stir again.

He saw very little of Sidney, who always seemed to have errands of his own to run. Most of Geno’s company during the day came from the toads that lurked like green gems among the plants. Friday became his primary confidant as she lazed around in spots of sunlight, batting lazily at the beetles that Geno turned out of the soil as he gardened. It was hard being alone with his thoughts, and he found that talking to Friday helped to lift some of the heaviness in his chest. She was a good listener, and sometimes Geno got far too caught up in their conversations, only to look down and find that he had dug up the wrong plant, or poured half his watering can over a single flower.

But Sidney never seemed to mind when he messed up. He just showed him how to put it right again, quietly and patiently, and without ever making Geno feel like he was an idiot. And then Sid would ask him to set the table while he threw dinner together. Geno didn’t know what sort of witchcraft he worked in that kitchen, but it always resulted in the most delicious food. Rich stews of tender meat, fragrant pies with pastry as light as air, fresh vegetables generously seasoned, and always the potatoes were cooked to perfection. Geno's favourite was Sidney's fruit sponge, drenched in honey and syrup, yet never too sweet for him to finish a whole helping.

And yet, for all of the good food, the beautiful gardens, the pleasant conversation, Geno could see no sign that Sidney was doing what he had promised. The bag that held the pieces of his heart stayed exactly where he had put it on Sidney’s work bench that very first day, and Sidney didn’t seem to spend enough time in the house to do much work. Geno had been there three months when he first pressed Sidney about it. Sidney just shrugged.

“Everything has its time. You can’t rush these things.”

Geno hid his grumble of annoyance in his scarf. The last few days had seen torrential rainfall that had them cooped up in the house, and Sidney had taken advantage of the first break in the weather to drag Geno out on a walk. The air was still heavy with moisture, and the ground was sodden, the dirt tracks that cut through the undergrowth turned into treacherous mud. The residual warmth of September was undoubtedly behind them now, and there was a chill to the air that promised them a bitter winter. But the chill in Geno’s chest was heavier, a . Sidney did an admirable job of distracting him from it. The latest thing had been card games, the rules becominging increasingly convoluted as Geno and Sidney’s competitive streaks began butting heads. It got to the point where Geno had demanded Friday be banished from the room, convinced that she was somehow helping Sidney spy on Geno’s cards.

The nights drew ever further in, but Geno’s world didn’t seem to get any darker. Before coming to work for Sidney, he had rented an attic bedroom from quite a severe old man who had disapproved of frivolous things like warmth. In Geno’s experience he had disapproved of a great many things, including, but by no means limited to, smiling, singing, polite conversation, beautiful women in pretty dresses, books, and decent food. But the rent was cheap, so Geno had put up with the single candle at night and the gruel that constituted dinner. It had not been a particularly enjoyable existence. In complete contrast, Sidney’s home was never dark, to the point of being a fire hazard. Every evening he carefully built a cheerful fire in the grate, and candles flickered on every surface, enough to rival a church.

By the time winter had settled in for good, Geno had stopped feeling like a stranger in Sidney’s home. If he was being honest, it was the first time in years that he felt like he belonged anywhere, and Sidney always made it clear just how welcome he was. He never said it in words, but he never really needed to. It was there in the way he lit up whenever Geno entered a room, the casual touches as they passed through each other’s space. The way he didn’t immediately shrug off the too friendly arm Geno would sling over his shoulders whenever he thought Sidney had spent too long in his work room. Even Friday tolerated his existence, if only because his was just another warm lap to curl up in. 

It was snowing the next time Geno asked Sidney about his heart. White flakes as big as cotton buds fell from slate grey clouds, turning the forest around the cottage into an amorphous landscape of abstract lumps and bumps. Sidney had shown Geno how to etch sigils of warmth into the walls to try an insulate them, but they were only able to do so much and so Sidney and Geno spent much of their time huddled under thick blankets on the sofa. Geno was slowly making his way through the books that lined the walls of the work room, and had learnt more about the movements of the stars and the various uses for goat spleen than he had ever thought he would.

But some nights he found it hard to settle. His mind kept turning back to his heart, still in pieces on Sidney’s desk. He couldn’t help but feel like they should be doing something about it.

“I’ve already told you, G. It takes time.”

“Always say this,” Geno grumbled. “Say you’re help, but you’re not. You’re just- you're not doing anything!”

Sidney stood suddenly, his eyes flashing with dark fire. As if to make a point, Friday slid off Geno’s lap and wrapped herself around her master’s ankles, staring balefully at Geno with her huge golden eyes. 

“You may not be able to see it, but I am doing everything I can to help you,” Sidney said, his voice echoing like the threat of distant thunder. “If you cannot trust me with this, then you are free to leave.”

With that he turned and left the room, his blanket trailing from his shoulders like a king’s cloak, Friday at his heels. Geno listened to the creak of the stairs as Sidney ascended them, and then the firm, pointed thud of his bedroom door. 

Alone in his bedroom, with only the silver moonlight to see by, Sidney fell face first onto his bed. He shouldn’t have gotten mad, shouldn’t have let his control slip like that. By his head, Friday gave a reproachful meow. “I know, I know.” Sidney sighed.

Geno was still on the sofa when he went back downstairs the next morning, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Friday didn’t seem to mind, and leapt up with a pleased maow to curl up on his chest.

“Traitor,” Sidney grumbled, and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. His magic was snappish that morning, flaring out in a way that reminded Sidney of when he was a teenager, with only the barest understanding of how his power worked. When he set the kitchen fire alight, it roared instantly into white blaze, hissing and snapping like a living thing. Sidney stood over it, brandishing the large iron skillet like a weapon, with a basket of eggs on the side waiting to be cracked.

Movement from the doorway prompted him to turn, and he was greeted with the sight of Geno, sleep rumpled and bleary eyed, leaning bonelessly against the door jamb. It left him feeling like the carpet had been pulled out from under his feet.

“M’sorry,” Geno said, and clearly his brain was still booting up, because that barely sounded like a word. “Was rude last night. Didn’t mean it, shouldn’t have said it.”

“I’m sorry too. I overreacted. It’s your heart, you were right to be upset.”

“I’m guess we’re both forgiven then.” Geno smiled a soft, crooked smile.

“I’d say so.”

When Sidney turned back to the fire, it was crackling happily, and its core was a deep contented glow.

* * *

They passed through the darkest of winter and out the other side into the sogginess of spring. March brought the bright bobbing heads of daffodils, the jewel tones of crocuses, and Sidney’s sister.

Taylor turned up unannounced one morning, looking more like a witch than Sidney ever did. Her pale blonde hair was covered with a wide brimmed hat, a band of purple silk circling the brim. Her dark cloak was closed at her throat with an agate clasp carved to look like a toad, and her fingers were weighed down by a king’s ransom of silver rings. She marched right in through the back door while they were still at the kitchen table, setting a heavy looking satchel right in the middle of the breakfast things.

“You’re new,” she said to Geno once she had finished greeting her brother. She stuck her hand out, and Geno shook it, only slightly perplexed. “Taylor. Sid’s sister.”

“Evgeni. Geno. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice accent,” she grinned, settling into one of the spare chairs and snagging a slice of toast from the rack. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Her eyebrows wiggled in a ridiculous fashion.

“Only the peace and quiet,” Sidney shot back, though he seemed resigned to his fate. 

Though unannounced, Taylor was not unexpected, as she later explained to Geno. It turned out that they ran a small business together, an apothecary in the capital that sold poultices and other herbal remedies. Taylor, being the more charismatic of the two, was the face of the business, while Sidney supplied the shop with the raw materials and any custom orders that Taylor didn’t have the recipes for. She had come to deliver Sidney’s share of the profits.

“You run just between the two of you?” Geno asked in amazement. Despite his misgivings about leaving the two of them together, Sidney had gone out to collect foxglove shoots, leaving them to plant seeds in clay pots. They would germinate in the warmth of the kitchen until they were large enough to move outside. Taylor scrunched her nose.

“I have help in the shop, but that’s because I only look like a witch.”

“But Sid is. Is why he’s alone.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, jabbing a nasturtium seed into the compost a little too viciously. “It’s the magic. It can be… off-putting to a lot of people.”

“Idiots.”

“Yeah.”

Taylor only stayed for a few days, helping out where she could, but too soon she had to head back to the capital, her bags laden with ingredients and fresh supplies. She kissed both of them on the cheek before she left, and gave Sidney an extra hard hug.

“Look after yourselves,” she said, before turning to Geno. “Don’t let him push you away.”

And with that she was gone, leaving Sidney frowning and Geno blinking with confusion. Such is the way of younger sisters, and Taylor spent her entire journey home grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Sidney and Geno were spending every day outside together, working side by side in the garden. Geno’s realm was the allotment, planting potatoes, carrots, onions, beans, and any other vegetable he could think to name. He was in charge of the apple trees too, Sidney showing him how to prune them so that they would give the best fruit come the summer. 

“It’s all about balance,” Sidney said, a steady hand against the small of Geno’s back, steadying him on the step ladder, ready to catch him if he fell. “You conserve energy now by cutting off all the useless parts, and when the time comes for what’s really important, you have so much more to give.”

The herb garden was Sidney’s domain, and was where he grew everything that went to the shop in the capital. It was also where Geno first saw Sidney really be a witch. The first day of March, Geno watched as Sidney marched into the centre of the bare earth, huge leather tome tucked under one arm, and a trowel gripped in his other hand. He held the book out in front of him, and spoke a single word so sharp and clear, that even at the bottom of the garden, Geno could hear it as clearly as if Sidney had been stood only a few feet away. It was a word as light as air, that contained the soaring arch of the sky, the sharp angles of a blackbird’s wing. When Sidney took his hand from the book, there was no thud, no crumpling of pages. Instead, the book floated in place, as if suspended by invisible threads. He flicked to the page he needed, and began to drag lines through the soil with his trowel, stopping every now and then to check his reference, or to call the book towards him.

It took a whole hour before he was satisfied with his work, drawing and redrawing the lines until they passed muster. With a satisfied nod, Sidney dropped to his knees, digging his hands into the soil as if he expected them to take root. And then he spoke the most amazing word. Geno didn’t hear it so much as feel it. It was a bright crackle of energy, snapping out from where Sidney’s hands touched the soil, running like liquid gold down the channels Sidney had made. It tasted of green, growing things, smelt like rich, damp earth, and Geno could feel everything in him leaning towards the word that still flowed from Sidney’s mouth. And then the magic died away, leaving nothing but the promise of something new, something good. Sidney looked up with eyes still glowing gold, smiled when he saw Geno watching. Geno, helpless, smiled back, and when Sidney got up, dusted off his knees and disappeared back into the house, every part of him wanted to follow, to root himself by his side and never leave.

_Shit._

* * *

Geno wasn’t blind. He knew Sidney was an attractive man, had known it since that very first day. There was a warmth to him that you couldn’t help but be drawn to, a loneliness that you wanted to sooth. Plus he was very pretty, and Geno was slowly coming to the realisation that he might want to kiss Sidney. He was, of course, lying to himself. In fact, he _very much_ wanted to kiss Sidney, so much so that his stomach ached whenever he thought about it.

Unfortunately for him, Sidney was also going through a similar crisis. Unlike Geno’s sudden epiphany, his feelings had been creeping up on him slowly, a gradual, inevitable tide. The problem was that Geno was very easy to fall in love with. He wore his emotions so openly, the good and the bad, and for someone who had always been as alone as poor Sidney, that was a very enticing quality. But he knew that even though the water looked inviting, lapping at his ankles in warm waves, he couldn’t wade out into the deep. His and Geno’s agreement hung heavy around his shoulders, and if he wasn’t careful, he knew he would drown.

Having said all that, it didn’t stop him from kissing back when Geno leaned in one evening and pressed their lips together. 

They were sat together in the den, Sidney knitting and Geno struggling through yet another volume on metaphysics. Sidney made a mental note to get Taylor to send him some novels from the capital, so that Geno had something a little more interesting to read. The rasp of paper on paper whenever a page was turned was a rare sound most evenings, but Sidney soon realised that Geno had stopped reading altogether. He looked up to ask what was wrong, and found Geno looking at him with a strange look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Geno sighed with frustration.

“Can I help?”

“Maybe.” Geno turned and Sidney was suddenly, electrifyingly aware of how close they were. He could feel the charge between them, and even though he tried not to, Sidney couldn’t help but meet him halfway, sinking into the warmth of Geno’s arms with a sigh. His hands came to rest on Geno’s shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, like he could hold him there forever. Or so that he could push him away. Sidney jerked back with a gasp, held Geno from him at arms’ length.

“I can’t. You- the deal. It’s not right.”

“Not right?” Geno echoed, trying not to let his hurt show in his voice.

“I mean. Shit. Wait there.”

He got up from the couch and disappeared into the work room, reappearing a brief moment later and holding a familiar bag. Truth be told, Geno had almost forgotten about it, so wrapped up in his work and in Sidney. When he took it from Sidney, it was heavy and warm in a way it hadn’t been in years. Carefully, he unwrapped his heart, held it whole and shining in his hands.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Sidney said, perching on the edge of the couch cushion, like a bird ready to fly at a moment’s notice. “I couldn’t actually fix it for you. But you were there on my doorstep, and you were so sincere, and so..., _tired_ , and I just wanted to help. I thought-”

“You thought I needed break.” Geno said slowly, turning his heart this way and that, marvelling at the way the firelight caught in the crystalline structure. It seemed to glow from within, pulsing steadily, reassuringly. He was slowly beginning to realise how long it had been since it had felt this good, this healthy.

“A distraction, yeah. I’m sorry, you just seemed to be really into the whole witch thing and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I get it.”

“You do?” Sidney’s face was so hopeful, it hurt Geno’s heart a little to think that he could ever be mad with him about something that was, really, not all that big of a deal.

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the contented purring of Friday winding between them. Then Sidney said, “You can go home if you want.”

“But I have three months left. We agreed.”

“Geno, I _lied_ to you. I made it all up! All you needed was time and space, you don’t have to stay.”

Geno looked very seriously at Sidney, holding his gaze. A shiver ran down Sidney’s spine, an electric jolt that left him tingling all over. “What if I’m want to stay?”

“I- you. What?”

Geno shifted himself so that he was facing Sidney directly, dropping his heart into his lap so that he could take both of Sidney’s hands in his. There was a moment where Sidney stayed rigid in his grasp before his hands relaxed, wrapping around Geno’s wrists and holding on as if for dear life.

“Sidney. Sid. I’m know you only for nine months. Is not very long, yes, but I know deep inside that we are good together. When we’re together, it feels right, yes?”

“Yes,” Sid breathed, because he did feel it. It scared him to hell and back, but he did. He could feel a laugh bubbling up between his lungs, and let it out in a short, sharp burst. “Shit, Geno. Of course you can stay.”

“Can I kiss you properly now?” Geno asked, prompting a real belly-laugh from Sidney.

“Sure,” he said, and leaned in, still smiling.

* * *

Almost exactly a year later found the two of them standing side by side in the garden, shivering slightly in the pale morning light. This in itself wasn’t an unusual sight, as they spent almost all their time outside in one capacity or another. What was unusual about this day was that they were digging up Sidney’s heart. They had had to dig up a rosemary bush to do it, but Sid was confident they could put it back in without shocking it too much.

“It was the safest place I could think to put it,” he admitted to Geno as he shoveled earth out of the way. “And I like the idea of all my plants having a little piece of me in them.”

Geno had to roll his eyes for appearance’s sake, but he also had to admit that it was a sweet sentiment. When Sidney finally brushed back the soil to reveal the glow of his own heart, Geno felt his breath catch in his throat. It was beautiful, the light inside moving like liquid gold. He bent down and brushed the surface carefully with his fingers, feeling it reach back out to him as Sidney’s fingers came to rest lightly at the nape of his neck.

“You’re sure about this?” Sidney asked. Geno nodded.

“I want to stay here. This feels right.”

Carefully, he pushed the soil aside until there was enough room beside Sidney’s heart to put his own. The ground was cool and damp, but all he felt was the rightness of coming to rest in a place he loved, with a man whom he adored. Together they pushed the soil back over, resettling the rosemary from where they had disturbed it, and stood back to watch the sun rise, hands clasped tight between them.

**Author's Note:**

> In Sidney-ese you don't say 'I love you', you say 'of course you can stay', and I think that's beautiful.
> 
> Sidney's style of witchery draws heavily on the Granny Weatherwax school of magic, so if you enjoyed this, I would recommend Terry Pratchett's _The Wee Free Men_! (though a quick disclaimer to say that I don't think my writing could in any way compare to Sir Terry's!)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
